Mail (day 1815)

A callused hand is my tomorrow;
You’re never far behind.
Leave alone the matted mess
That flirts with every question
For in the envelope of time
Was never sort of guessing, no,
All that was ever called
To surface of the law
Was packaged neatly, sorted, drawn,
And placed into a manilla – shut
Stamped with half ones love

Mail by Ned Tobin

Aside (day 832)

Things I’ve left behind
Oh, things I’ve left aside
I’ve walked along the road
And down, down, down the ol’ block
Hands hidden deep
Beneath layers upon layers

Oh why did I sleep
Why did I take that lonely step
These times as they’ve left behind
Oh things I’ve left behind
Drag on the changes of my mind

Where does it go
Tell me, where does it all go
When I’m occupied
Searching for changes, aside
Oh, the things I’ve left behind
Why did I stop, time on my mind
Stumbling down this block